I realize my blog posts have been too much of a downer lately. Thank you for indulging me as I wallow in my mess. To switch things up, I have decided to regale you with the many entertaining stories I gathered while on my recent wedding anniversary cruise with the Hubs.
Yes, it's been 25 wonderful years with the Hubs. Can't believe it's been that long. Dear Hubs booked us on a seven-night cruise to Honduras, Belize, and Cozumel out of New Orleans as a surprise. What a guy! In our former lives as married, no-kids people, we used to go scuba diving at least twice a year. And we rocked it. We were awesome divers. We've been to Cozumel, Hawaii, Grand Cayman, Little Cayman, the Bahamas, and on, and on. We've seen rays, sharks, octopi, lobster, sea horses, eels, whales, dolphins, turtles, and more fish than you can shake a stick at. But once we had kids, our days of diving came to a screeching halt. In the last 15 years, we have gone diving about 3 times. Pitiful. Dear Hubs knows how much I love diving and swore we would dive our buns off.
After an awesome day in New Orleans (bloodies, anybody?), we boarded the ship ready for fun and scuba! Now, we cruise Carnival. It's a down-ballot cruise line but that's what I like about it. I can slump out to the pool in my Gap bathing suit and no-name flips and be right at home in the hot tub with all my peeps. Like Bobby the electrician and Susie the farmer. These are my peeps. You'll never hear better stories in a hot tub than those from these salt of the earth people. I'll tell you more about them in a later installment.
Today is about our dive buddies. Let me tell you about myself. I am what they call "well preserved." I am a woman of a "certain age" who has fought like hell to keep everything from going South. I work out 3 to 4 days a week and generally try to keep things well tended. I don't go overboard but I try. So, I figured I would be OK in my bikini on a dive boat. No lingering looks, but no sniggering either.
First dive: Honduras. We meet the dive master. A little uptight but no big deal. There's no talking under there anyway and I know what I'm doing. Then I look around at who will be diving with me from our ship. Well. First, I see Honey Boo Boo all growed up. I mean, imagine that deep South baby beauty queen at about 32. Weighing in at a buck 80 in a teeny weenie yellow bikini. She's in full make-up (to go diving, mind you) and has a 'Merican flag belly button piercing (it was July 4th, y'all). She's got her momma (who has a weird burp reflex that won't stop and sounds like she's about to urp that squirrel she had for lunch), her fiance (they are getting married on the ship in two days), and some other dude that doesn't seem to fit but LOVES to wear teeny running shorts as a bathing suit. And they are EXPERTS in diving, people. They will tell you EVERYTHING you are doing wrong. That's another installment as well.
But that's not all. There were two of the most gorgeous women I have EVER seen diving together. I'll call them Blonde and Brown. It's their hair color, people. That's it on our dive boat. Pageant hillbillies, me and the Hubs, and the professional hotties. Now by "professional" I DO NOT mean what you dirty-minded people are thinking. Blonde recently placed nationally in some sort of body competition and she's training Brown to do the same thing. I saw pictures. So did the Hubs. Blonde is even a personal trainer. My Gap bikini looked worse by the minute. They were the nicest, most fun people I have met in a long time. We became a foursome, and the Hubs was the envy of EVERYONE.
So I get ready to hit the water for the first time in a long time. Now, I do NOT put my own equipment together. I haven't done that since I got my certification. I mean, if I'm paying out the nose for a dive, I expect my dive master (who will expect a tip later) to hook me up. Well, Honey Boo Boo elbowed me right out of the way so she could hit the water first. For you non-divers, this is a rookie mistake. If you're the first one in, you have to struggle to stay up top until the entire dive party is off the boat and you can all start to go down. But whatever. But once she hits the water, her hillbilly running of the mouth still won't stop. She's screaming about, "PUFFERS! PUFFERS! PUFFERS!" This chick really wants to see some puffer fish. Whatever, we all get in and we start going down. Well, it was just as I feared, the Hillbillies talked a big game but they were horrible divers. By this I mean, they are all arms down there. That's bad in the dive biz because a flailing arm will take your regulator out of your mouth (that means no more oxygen for you) and knock your mask off your face (hello, salt water in the eyes). Yikes! Honey Boo Boo's fiance (I'll call him Lurch) decided wherever I was was the perfect place to try to dive. Sigh. On our first tank. He ripped my regulator out; got on top of me, grabbed my tank, and yanked me to his right; grabbed my fins to try to get me out of his way (he was BEHIND me); and was a general pain in my ass.
BTW, it was Blonde's first dive after getting her certification and she was diving like a BOSS. She was great. Brown was great. The Hillbillies . . . well . . . Honey Boo and her mother (Burpie) held hands the entire dive. I know that sounds sweet. It's not. When you are down there, you don't want a four-person wide object that wants to be FIRST TO SEE EVERYTHING. At one point they cut the Hubs off, still holding hands, to see a crab. Honey Boo Boo's bikini bottom had been eaten (if you get my drift). It was right in front of his mask. I laughed so hard I sucked in about a quart of sea water. It was worth it.
Surface interval. Honey Boo Boo proceeded to regale us with stories of everything she had seen and how everything was "so cute, I just want to take it hooooooome." Uh, HBB, we were on your exact same dive. Anywho, uptight dive master said we could snorkel during our surface interval. You would have thought he said we would all get a $1,000 check the way Honey Boo Boo wet herself: "What?! Oh my God!!! This is incredible!! Best surface interval EVER!!!!!!!" Burpie just urped. Uh, HBB, you could snorkel on ANY surface interval if you wanted to. You've got a mask, snorkel, and fins and you are floating on water. Have at it. Anywho, she jumps in and starts screaming "PUFFERS! PUFFERS! PUFFERS!" Well, hell, I've got to see this. It must be puffer soup out there. So I jump in. Nope. Starfish.
Second dive. Uptight dive master tells us there is an eel that hangs out here and she might come and check us out. She does. And for some reason, she digs my vibe. She slithers up my arm and pokes her face right in my mask to say "hello." Pretty cool. Until I remember that the Hillbillies will insist on being RIGHT IN THE FRONT TO SEE ANYTHING. I quickly put my hands up to my regulator and my mask and here comes Lurch and Honey Boo Boo. They are holding hands on this dive and they really want to see that eel. Well, their arm gestures freak poor Miss Eel out and she slithers down my front to get the heck out of Dodge. Wish I could.
Once we get back on the boat, Lurch proceeds to tell me everything I did wrong on both dives: Hey, you were in my way and I had to pull you out of my way. (Yes, I know. My ears popped because you threw me down about ten feet. Plus, I was below you and couldn't see you.) You kicked me with your fins. (I don't have a rearview mirror) You hit the eel with your fin. (Um, she was trying to get away from you and you hit me backwards into her). All I said was, "Oops, Bra. Gotta hang back from the volcano." I have no idea what that means. It was better than what I wanted to say, which was "Get your hillbilly arms away from my area and quit diving like you are in a performance of Chicago on Broadway, Jazz Hands!"
Anywho, nothing a few visits to the bar didn't cure. We hung with Blonde and Brown and some people on the other dive boat at a resort until it was time to head back to the ship. It was lovely. But when it was time to leave, we had to wait for Honey Boo Boo and the other hillbillies because they had ordered hamburgers (a hamburger in Honduras!!!!!!!!) that hadn't been served yet. Are you kidding me? We are going to miss our cruise ship so you can get a hamburger?! When they finally got on the shuttle with their stinky burgers, Brown said, "You owe us a beer." They didn't even acknowledge her or even say sorry to us. It was all the fault of "those people" at the resort. And they didn't even tip the dive master. THAT'S a crappy diver. And we got to hear Burpie urp her way back to the ship while eating a burger. Yum.
So, the next day is Belize diving. Gotta be better, right? Stay tuned.
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